


Swish Then Flick

by 221A_brina



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: And Nosh..., And This Not Being A HP Fic, Crowley's A Good Sport, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff, Gen, He Just Doesn't Let On, He Loves His Food, He's Just so Damned... I Mean Darned Pleased, How Much?, I Didn't Count the Bottles Laying Around, Indoorsy, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), It Sort of Ambushed Me, Like Lots, Maybe I Shouldn't Get Ahead Of Myself Here, Ok... Go Read, Ok... Now I'm Really Done Tagging., Or Would It Be 'Floof?', Outdoorsy, Secretly he loves it, Sorry About the HP Title Reference, Tackled Is More Like, Testing a Theory, Then Pummelled Me Into Submission, Though It's Actually Too Dark To See, Through the Doorsy, Tickled Pink In Fact, We're Talking About Aziraphale..., i dunno..., of course, oh wait...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221A_brina/pseuds/221A_brina
Summary: One winter's night, after much imbibing, accompanied by many varied plated of nibbles and nosh, Aziraphale gets a wild hair, and sets about trying to prove a theory.





	Swish Then Flick

**Author's Note:**

> Ok... Here's the scoop. Eons ago I read Good Omens. I'm sure I still have it somewhere in my mountain of books. But suffice it to say it's also been eons since I've seen the actual book. 
> 
> Fast forward to Good Omens on Amazon Prime... Well, Boy Howdy! Being an enthusiast of both David Tennant **and** Michael Sheen, I jumped on that quicker'n a cowboy on a bull at a rodeo. (Gotta say, it was a Helluva [Heavenuva?] Ride! Did. Not. Disappoint! (Suffice it to say I've watched it **at least** 7 times on AP, got the soundtrack, & plan to get the DVDs when they come out. Yeah... I "liked" it that much." ;o)
> 
> So now, having [yet another] 'new' fandom to fall down the rabbit hole of, I, of course set about trying to find Good Omens fic, and I was not disappointed. One of the fics I read recently was set in the winter, which got me thinking... and those of you who know me, know that's a dangerous thing (think?). This idea Would. Not. Leave. Me. Alone. It DEMANDED (cheeky bugger) to be written right then & there… when I DID NOT have the time… but hey. Best not to argue with a muse that’s been on sabbatical, and haven't seen hide nor hair of since the end of this past January. Helluva block, eh?. (So now it’s a ‘block party?’ There certainly was enough drinking [on their parts] for it.) Alrighty then. Here ya go. You’ve been warned. (Snort.) 
> 
> Oh, and yeah - be nice... this is my first foray into writing Good Omens. Lemme know if I did alright. #kravingkudos #canvassingforcomments #toysfortots #waitwhat? #whoops

“Oh, please? Indulge me?” Aziraphale pleaded, glancing over to Crowley, a gleam in his eye.

“Buh…” (huff) “Whyyy?” Crowley whinged, slumping down further into what his companion had dubbed ‘the comfy chair.’

Come to think of it, he was rather comfortable where he was – sitting sideways in the chair, legs draped and dangling over the arm. “It’s cold ‘n’ wet outside, an’ ‘m nice ‘n’ waaarrrm hee-yah,” he intoned, jutting out his jaw and downing the remainder of his wine. A few moments later he tipped the glass to his mouth again, upending it completely, rendering only a single unsatisfactory drop instead of the expected full gulp. He scrunched his nose (making those little creases between his brows that Aziraphale secretly adored) and stared at the glass, puzzled.

“Annn-gellll… it seeems, ‘n truth, ‘m outta vino.” A slow grin made its way up one corner of his mouth. He chuckled as he extended his empty glass to Aziraphale, who obliged by filling the glass once again, and topping off his own as well, thereby polishing off yet another bottle.

Crowley raised his glass and mumbled, “Vino… veritas! ‘r how-evv-err that goes.” He took a long draught, inhaling and savoring the moment, and the wine, before swallowing.

“It would only be for a few minutes. ‘N’ besides… iss not as if you cou’n’t miracle yourself dry.” Aziraphale pleaded again.

“Mmm… but… whyy?”

“Oh, pleeease Crowley?” He begged once more, this time employing his ‘patented’ secret weapon – hurt puppy dog eyes. “It’ll be fun… an’ I wanna tessst a thee-ryy.” He hid his sly smile behind his wine glass hoping his companion wouldn’t catch on. “’sides… hafta get up anyy wayz t’get more (hic) vino, so may azz well go a few more steps ‘atta way,” he jerked his head in the direction of the cottage door. He then flashed his most beatific and innocent smile in the direction of his dear friend, batting his eyelashes for emphasis.

“Awright awready,” Crowley grumbled, waving his hands in a surrendering motion. He downed his wine in one gulp, unfolded himself, and sprang up from the chair all in one motion. He made a popping sound with his mouth as he landed on his feet. “M-kayyy… ‘sss doo this then, shall we?” He rolled his shoulders, set his wine glass on the coaster, (which his fastidious friend had laid out for him at the start of the evening, with instructions as to its proper usage, mind you) reached his arms behind his body, clasped his hands, and flexed.

“Really? Are you sure?” Aziraphale clapped his hands in unfettered glee, his face glowing in delight, giddy with anticipation.

“Wah… yeah… sure…” Crowley rasped, low and gravelly, “lesss go b’fore I change m’ mind, awright?"

“Oh goody!” The overjoyed Angel looped his arm through the Demon’s, dragging him outside. Once out, he nudged Crowley forward. “You go first.”

“Nah…” Crowley peeked over the pitch black lenses of his spectacles. “Same time, ‘k?”

“Awwright. On the count of three.”

Crowley made a loud inhale in preparation of asking a question, only to forgo it by puckering up his lips in a contemplative, yet quizzical manner.

“Three, **then** go,” the Angel volunteered, his train of thought moving minutely faster than his friend’s, to which Crowley nodded in agreement.

“One…” they shuffled over to the edge of the lawn. “Two…” They both assumed a stance with their feet shoulder-width apart. “Three…” They turned to look at each other. “Go!”

Angel and Demon dropped back first onto the ground, wildly flailing and swishing their arms and legs in the snow covered grass like a pair of crazed jumping jacks, cackling as they did.

“Now, Crowley… be careful getting up. Don’t mess it up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Michaelangelo,” he quipped, “I think I get the gist of it.”

They extricated themselves from the wet ground and stood. Aziraphale noticed that no snow clung to the back of Crowley, but his clothes were soaked.

Crowley, on the other hand, noticed the back of his companion appeared as if it were dusted with a fine soft layer of icing sugar. Without a second thought, he flicked his hand as if to brush it off, and miracled it away, causing Aziraphale to beam (and almost literally melt) at him, the sparkle in the Angel’s eyes in direct competition with the stars in the crisp, clear winter’s night sky.

The Demon, equal parts ashamed for getting caught, and secretly loving that he had, rolled his eyes and chuffed in response in order to keep up appearances. (Who were either of them fooling, really?)

“Ok… so I did what you asked – swishing about in the snow wif m’arms ‘n’ legs in the snow. Whut’s the big deal then?” he asked, still unsure of the reason for the bizarre request.

Aziraphale was aghast and amazed as he first looked at the patterns in the snow, then back to his wet friend. “I KNEW IT!! It’s incontrovertible evidence! You see?!”

“Whatevv’r are you blathering on about, Angel?”

“Angels.”

“Where?” Crowley looked around, slightly panicked. “Here? Who?!”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what? Really Aziraphale, p’r’aps we oughta sober up, mm?”

“Not just yet, Crowley. Look… really look at the shapes in the snow. What do they remind you of?”

Crowley took his glasses off, pinched the bridge of his nose, then bent his wrist on his hip, setting the other under his chin, glasses hanging, striking a pose as if he were an art critic at a gallery opening.

“Welllll…” he groused, pausing a moment to consider. His eyebrows contorted – the left arching heavenward (well, you know... upwards... sky high or thereabouts), the right angling low in an attempt to stay unobtrusively under the radar. “Uhhh… there’s swishy legs ‘n’ arms,” he indicated, making wild motions with his hand, almost flinging the glasses into the snow.

As Crowley spoke, Aziraphale’s smile widened, his cheeks pinked, and his eyes darted between his companion and the figures in the snow

“Oh… nn… nyooo… can’t be…”

The Angel jumped for joy and clapped his hands in triumph. “Humans call them snow angels. See? I knew it! There **IS** a bit of Angel still in you!”

At which, something in Crowley’s baser nature almost made him blurt out, //_Not at the moment._// Instead, he paused ever so slightly, tongue clenched firmly between his teeth, looked away for a brief moment, and waggled his brow suggestively to no one in particular.

Aziraphale was over the moon (well not _literally_, but you get the drift) that he’d been proven right – that Crowley would be able to make a snow angel.

Realization slowly began to creep across his countenance, and he finally blurted, “Good God!” whereupon at the end of his utterance, Crowley momentarily gagged. “You can’t be serious,” he protested, then laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You never fail to to amuse me, Angel.”

“Come. Let’s get back inside. Dry you off.” He tutted at the wet clothes clinging to the Demon’s back. “Anywhooo… I have a particularly delightful vintage I want you to try. Perhaps the candied walnut brie is ready by now. If you slice up the Asian pears, I’ll get the wine. It’ll **pair** up quite nicely if I do say so m’self.” The Angel giggled at his own pun.

“You’re a loon.”

“Yes… but that’s one of my more endearing qualities.”

“Get inside you… loon-atic,” Crowley volleyed back with a barely straight face as he sauntered towards the door to the cottage.

After a moment, Aziraphale followed him in. When he crossed through the doorway, he turned back to look over the pair of snow angels. Before slowly closing the door, he subtly flicked his hand in the direction of the lawn.

^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^

Several hours later, brie, pears and wine completely consumed, Crowley woke with a start. He unwound himself from the chair and stretched out the kinks in his limbs. On the sofa, his companion was deep in slumber. He reached over and tugged the hand sewn quilt from the back of the sofa, gently draping it over the sleeping Angel. His only reaction was a light snuffling and barely audible lip smacking, ending in a tenuous smile.

Crowley blinked his bleary eyes, rubbing the sleep from them before assaying the room. Bottles, plates, dishes, cutlery – everything was strewn hither and yon on almost every available surface. He huffed a grin at the delicious mess they’d made. He took a deep breath, quietly exhaling. Tomorrow… he’d tidy up in the morning. (Or afternoon, or whenever he happened to wake up) providing Aziraphale didn’t beat him to the punch, which he imagined he would, especially owing to his orderly nature.)

As he stretched for the second time, his attention was drawn to a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains of the front window. He silently sidled over, parting the curtains a tidge and gazed at the forms in the snow.

It took a moment for him to register what he saw, and a slight titter escaped his lips. He quickly glanced back to the sofa to see if his Angel was still asleep. (Phew! Yes, thank Go... Oy! Goodness.)

His gaze returned to the snow angels. Something just above the head of the form he had made glinted in the moonlight, catching his eye. A dimly glowing oval perched atop the head of his snow angel. He shook his head. A wry smirk edged its way across his mouth blossoming into a full face smile. He huffed a breath out of his nose, puffing out his chest and cocking his head. He waggled his eyebrows, and with a quick flick of his fingers, he let the curtains swish closed. //_Two can play at this game, Angel,_// he thought as he headed back to his nest in the comfy chair. He paused a moment before settling in. Waving a hand over the room, the previous mess was soundlessly set aright. Seeing everything returned to its proper place, Crowley coiled himself back into the chair, and was asleep almost instantly.

^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^ ^A^ ^D^

If a random passerby were to take a quick look at the forms in the snow, both figures would appear to be snow angels, but upon further inspection and scrutiny, one would certainly notice that one figure sported a halo, whilst the other, most definitely, sprouted horns.


End file.
